Before Clary
by Lostinafairytale.eb
Summary: "He prays to the angel that Pandemonium will be dead-without demonic activity he silently corrects himself-so that he can concentrate on finding some much needed relief in the dozens of girls that throw themselves at him." Who is Jace before he meets Clary? One-shot; rated M for crass language and sexual content.
1. A Night Like Any Other

**Hi everyone! This is just a little one-shot that was rolling around in my head. In the TMI series, Clary's character is well-developed, but Jace's on the other hand is left purposely vague in the beginning to add to the mystery. **

**I was just wondering, if Jace was to have his story told, what would he be like before he met Clary. **

**The plan is for this to be the only installment, but if I get enough feedback/reviews I might be persuaded to continue it. This story's future is in your hands.**

**This fic is rated M for a reason. Please don't read if crass language and sexual content offend you.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing with regard to TMI...Cassandra Clare is the lucky lady. I do however own the thoughts of Jace that I fall asleep to.**

Jace's shadowhunter gear is far too binding tonight. He hasn't been laid in four days and the erection he has been sporting since his morning "activities" were interrupted by Maryse pounding on his door to get to the training room "as fast as angelically possible" is making him severely uncomfortable. He prays to the angel that Pandemonium will be dead-without demonic activity he silently corrects himself-so that he can concentrate on finding some much needed relief in the dozens of girls that throw themselves at him. He doesn't have to be choosy. The most attractive of the girls trample those that are not equal to the task long before any of them approach him. He is legendary in his lack of notoriety. They don't know his name, but the girls of Pandemonium speak of his sexual prowess like they are telling an urban legend; they can't wait to be the one, or sometimes two, selected to satisfy the needs of the hot boy with the golden hair and the enormous presence.

The music greets Jace's ears before his eyes settle on the long line of wannabes who wait for access, that might never happen, to the club. He and his companions: a statuesque raven-haired beauty with exotic, dark chocolate eyes, and a stunningly hot silhouette; and an equally handsome male with shiny black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the physique of a decathlete-bypass the hordes of humans, stymied into a hushed silence by the presence of these three otherworldly beings, to enter the club without more than a head nod from the bouncer. They are immediately alert scanning the room, eyes landing on a vampire making fast conversation with a Fey holding a frothing bluish drink, or a werewolf being charmed by a witch in the corner. The downworlders interact as though they are humans; their supernatural gifts hidden behind glamours and spells. The three move as one toward the bar to inquire about demons. The bartender frowns, but shakes his head slightly not wishing to call attention to the fact that shadowhunters are bad for business. Jace holds up three fingers and three whiskey shots appear as if by magic. They grab their shots and before they can toss them back, Jace utters a crass toast, drains his and holds up three again.

His companions drain their shots as well and then move off in separate directions to continue the hunt. Jace motions to the bartender to keep the drinks coming. He doesn't worry about paying. Shadowhunters run a tab that is never collected on and Jace often takes full advantage of it. He finds a seat and within a few seconds he is approached by a tall, tanned blond with long powerful legs and cleavage that threats to spill over the tiny green halter top she wears. She places her hand on his thigh unsolicited, but it doesn't bother Jace. It's her way of letting him know that she will do anything that he wants. He takes his finger and traces the under the line of fabric that encases her burgeoning breasts. She leans in to whisper something in his ear, but instead runs her warm, soft tongue from his collarbone to his ear. She takes his earlobe into her mouth and bites with just enough pressure to cause Jace to breath in quickly. He hardens beyond what he thought possible and knows that if he doesn't have sex soon he will split the seam of his pants. The girl glances down to Jace's lap and a smile plays upon her lips. He knows that she is imaging his length filling her up carrying her to an orgasm that she's only dreamed possible. Her hand slides up his thigh to rest on his hardness; again Jace breathes in deeply. He drains his drink and looks at the girl. His calloused hand slides across her shoulder to rest on her neck and he pulls her toward him. He whispers his desire and her eyes brighten with anticipation. Jace leads her to the back room; his hands in his pocket adjusting knowing the moment for relief isn't too far off now.

The dimly lit back room at Pandemonium is good for two things: killing demons, and fucking the shit out of some clueless whore. Jace grips the blonde girl's hips roughly. He sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of her back, sucks and then soothes the pain with his tongue. And he pounds relentlessly into the girl, grasping her hair, pulling her head back with a ferocity that equals the brutality he uses to slay demons . Her screams of pleasure match almost thrust for thrust until he's moving with such speed that she can't keep up and she final lets go with a feral, shrieking growl. Jace continues to hammer into her, harder, faster, harder, faster until the pressure build up is so great that he explodes into her a prolonged grunt signaling his satisfaction. He doesn't collapse onto the girl, that's not his style. Instead, he withdraws, yanks off the condom and tosses into the trash. His pants are up and fastened as he exits the room without a glance or a word.

Jace reemerges into the loud pulsing music and the flash of laser lights dancing across the walls and ceiling. Pandemonium tonight is just that _pandemonium_. Bodies are packed tightly, rubbing in time to the music. He probably could have performed just as well on the dance floor as he did just now; privacy isn't really a necessity for him and the angel knows that the type of girls that will do him in the back room at Pandemonium are not used to gentlemanly behavior. He moves toward the bar needing a drink to make up for his exertion. He smirks at a young couple close by. He can't see her face, but her curly red hair floats around her like a veil and sticks to her companion's, a sort-of rat-faced boy of 16 with glasses and a sour expression, sweaty face. _Mundanes are so mundane _he thinks dismissively and continues his trek to the bar.

As he moves his eyes scan the rooms for his companions. They alight on his sister first. Isabelle is stationed near the DJ booth being eye-fucked by every male within a 10 foot diameter. Her black lace dress covers the top half of her body and not much else. He would think she was a slut if she wasn't his sister. She nods in his direction letting him know that nothing of interest has captured her attention.

Alec hovers near the restrooms determined to spot a demon or downworlder that forgets the law of the Clave. While Jace and Isabelle are able to amuse themselves when danger is taking a break, Alec feels cheated and will undoubtedly be in a pissy mood if he isn't able to splatter the blood of at least one of Hell's spawn. He scowls in Jace's direction, noticing that Jace readjusts his pants to be more accommodating. Jace just flashes his eyes and shakes his head at his brother wishing that Alec would just drop the torch that he's carrying for him and find some guy who will give Alec the "push" that he needs to come out of the closet.

Jace once again settles at the bar, raises two fingers and is reward with a whiskey double neat. He should be exhausted by his exertions, but instead he feels that growing need creeping up on him. He looks into the crowd of dancers for another girl all too eager to satisfy herself upon _him_. His eyes halt on the curly red hair from earlier. It belongs to a small girl almost hidden by the masses. He thinks she is the most beautiful creature he has ever seen without really knowing why. She moves her curves in a manner that makes him tingle. _What an unexpected reaction! _He's slightly startled by it. She turns to face him; her eyes closed; her hands skimming over her thighs, her exposed belly, her breasts, to tangle in her hair piling it atop her head. The unsecured tresses are released to flow down over her shoulder caressing her body like a waterfall caresses the rocks at its base. Her eyes open to reveal a captivating bright emerald green. A blush creeps over her cheeks having caught him staring at her. His view is then blocked by the curves of a gorgeous strawberry blonde who press her body to Jace straddling his leg. He feels the warmth of her penetrating the fabric of his pants and his body responds involuntarily. He's ready. He stands, places his hands on the curvaceous girls hips, and guides her toward the back room. Just before entering, he glances in the direction he just left looking for the small red-head girl who caused his body to tingle. He sees her and smiles as he wraps up the image of her caressing her own body to use later when he is by himself.

**Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think! AND IF YOU DO REVIEW...I'LL PRIVATE MESSAGE YOU A TEASER FOR A POSSIBLE CHAPTER 2!**

*****Still Lost...**


	2. A Frustrating Near Sleepless Night

**Hi all! I hope you're having a fabulous sun-shiny day! **

**So I didn't plan on continuing this story, but I've had a few people PM me asking that I write some more. So here it is!**

**I hope that you enjoy it and that you'll review to let me know what you think. I love reading your thoughts, good or bad; they really to help me to become a better writer. I respond to me reviews and the conversations that pop up are great!**

**I want to put a special thanks out there to:**

**TMI_Rules for reviewing both _Before Clary _and _All the Time in the World_ and for PMing me with thoughts, ideas and compliments! I love it! Mwah! Hugs!**

**Cosmopolitan165: for reviewing and for some great idea with how to continue this story. Hugs!**

**Kayla Homes: for the encouragement to continue. Hugs!**

**Please, please, please review! Yes, I am begging. I absolutely love, love, love your thoughts! Every single one of them is incredibly important!**

**One more things... Please remember _Before Clary_ is rated M for a reason!**

The ride home on the subway is uneventful, except for the sour look on Alec's face. Isabelle avoids looking at either brother knowing that when Alec is in a snit, it's better for silence to fill the space than words that might provoke his undesired anger. Jace however, is never as perceptive when it comes to recognizing the need to be quiet, or maybe he just doesn't care to allow Alec to behave like a pouting two-year-old.

"There was a mundane with red hair and piercing green eyes. Did you happen to see her?" Jace puts the question out there to see if Alec or Isabelle were as drawn to her as he was. Isabelle's eyes flash in confusion; her almost imperceptible head shake a signal that she doesn't want to converse. Alec continues to look in Jace's direction blue eyes sharply aimed willing his bitterness to overpower Jace's curiosity and post-sexual encounter foggy-headed high. He won't respond and Jace knows this, but he's feeling like being an ass and so he pushes back against Alec's unpleasant stare.

"What the fuck's your problem?" The smirk on his face playfully suggests that he's really asking, interested, although he's fairly certain that his brother is angered at Jace indiscriminately exposing himself to the mundane world. That and he's jealous that Jace prefers womanly curves and peaks and valleys, the scent of female arousal and the brush of a woman's hand over the swelling in his pants to what Alec might propose. _Shit! What am I doing? Four orgasms and still…_. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat; slumping down to create some room for his unfortunate predicament. _How much longer is it until were home?_ His thoughts affirm his body's impatience for the remaining journey.

* * *

Jace wishes that he had bumped into the red head with the sexy curves as he walked to the back room at Pandemonium for the second time tonight. He could really use the sound of her voice or the knowledge that her hands are warm and soft to help him out. Not that he's really complaining...that strawberry blonde knew her way around a man; multiple orgasms were something that he gave away like candy-usually he wasn't the recipient. At any rate, he figured that he would need to rest and eat something before he would be ready again. But the ride home and an over-active imagination make that an impossibility. And now, here he is, alone in his room at the Institute finding it really hard to picture the girl who at a distance made him tingle. Jace scoffs loudly as he recalls the strange sensation. He would never describe any sexual feeling he attributed to himself as "tingling".

Staring up at the ceiling, his brain tries to recreate the scene of the red head's hands moving silkily up her thighs. His hands replace hers feeling the muscles of her legs tense as she dips to rub her ass across the front of his pants. Her hands catch on her hips momentarily; his mind places his there gripping them hard as he grinds her against him. Dragging slowly, fingers splayed over her stomach the feel of her skin is a blank. A deep, slow breath… he blinks back the image, but it's gone.

He releases the hold he has on himself for a moment, trying to refocus his foggy thoughts: the thumping music of Pandemonium, ivory hands moving heavily over her curves. _This never happens. _The struggle to satisfy is not something that Jace has ever battled. Usually, the white walls of his stark room provide a bare canvas to project his mental fantasies upon, no distractions, but tonight-it looks like it's a cold shower for him.

_ A cold shower… Isabelle's atrocious cooking…the unbelievable stench of Drevak demons… Isabelle's cooking. _Jace channels thoughts to counteract his still semi-hard arousal. The frigid water from his failed shower trickles down his back sending shivers through out his body. He quickly towels off his hair and throws on a pair of pajama pants. He crouches down to the floor, extending his feet behind him; his hands flat under his shoulders. He pushes up and lowers himself down 1…2…3…4…56…102. The push-ups tax his shoulders and his chest and Jace hopes the muscle burn will force his mind to concentrate on something other than his lower extremities. _This can't be just because of her!_ _What is my problem? _He doesn't expect an answer to the question he puts out to the universe. He flips on to his back and tucks his feet under his dresser. Hands overlap behind his head golden curls tangling between his fingers. _Lift—right—left—exhale—1—lift—right—left—exhale—2._ The repetition of crunches—reciting the pattern over in his head usually calms his mind. _Lift—right—left—exhale—55—lift—right—left—exhale—85._

He collapses onto his bed 150 push-ups; 100 crunches; and 200 squats later; Jace is exhausted to the point. His mind is finally quiet, although it refuses to delivers sleep quickly.

* * *

The beat pounds through his body. Her hands are soft and warm just like he thought they would be and small, so delicate. But strong too. She grips him like she's tugging on a rope, and oh god it feels so... A groan escapes Jace before he's able to stifle it. Her green eyes flash to his momentarily smiling in triumph and then she dips her head down to take him into her mouth. The slickness of her tongue moving up his ridge sends a shiver up his spine. _How is it that this has never felt so good before?_ His inner monologue cannot keep up with the rush of sensations she is flooding his body with. Her head bobs rhythmically and he feels that overwhelming tightness and heat that will accompany his release. He's so close. _That's right! Just like that! Come on…yeah. _She brings her mouth almost to the end, swirls her tongue around and then presses deeply right at the base. _There…there...there…Oh_.

His breathing, only through his nose or he might yell out, is labored and loud and is so quick that he feels light-headed. Her fiery curls flit over his trembling thighs and tensed abs, the tickling heightening his sensitivity. She trails her fingers up the inside of his legs. Jace tries to hold on—her creeping fingers edge up his thighs making it so hard. A groan settles in his chest, the pressure is intense and she's still moving, tongue rolling over skin, fingers skimming his inner thighs. She cups him and pulls…_ oh God!_ The ball of heat centered in between his hips is an inferno, raging, pulsing savagely, coursing through his body. His breath catches in his throat…

* * *

"Wake-up, Asshole. You're late and Mom's in the training room ready to use the practice whip on YOU!" Apparently, Alec's still angry. Jace tumbles out of bed and crashes to the floor._ Too many squats. I'll be paying for that today. _He doesn't bother with a shower knowing that prolonging the training session with his adoptive mother, the consequence for tardiness, is not in his best interests.

* * *

Jace returns limping to his room. Maryse is a genius with a whip. He, however, displayed little intelligence while training today—the near sleepless night to blame. His drag ass landed him on the mats over and over, and in true Jace fashion his smart mouth earned him an extra hour of brutal hand to hand with a still pissed off Alec. Thank the angel for gifting the _iratze_ to the Nephilim. Jace expertly carves the healing rune into his swollen ankle, grateful for the smell of burning flesh and almost instantaneous relief. Still, Jace hobbles to his bathroom; his sore muscles demand the scaling heat of a shower to release the punishment of the day. As the water cascades over the tension in his body, Jace's mind wanders to the night's upcoming hunt. Demons sighted—two words that Jace loves hearing as much as the sound of his own voice, or the constant praise usually heaped on him by the Institute's visiting Shadowhunters, or the screamed moan elicited as he pleasures a woman. _And there it is. Well, if the demons turn out to be a wild goose chase… _The images of the little red-head catapult to the forefront of his mind. Jace's hand hovers over the hot water control wondering if maybe he needs to turn the water to cold. Demon hunting with a hard-on is ridiculously difficult.

"Jace! We're leaving in 20 minutes!" _Ah…Isabelle. _He drops his hand; no need to change the water temperature now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! I'm excited to post this chapter. I hate taking so long to post new chapters, but I want to make sure that they are exactly what the story wants them to be and are worth your time to read!**

**I'm not sure about this chapter; it took an unexpected direction as a was writing it. I hope that you like it.**

**Thank you to everyone who reads this story. I know that it's scary to post reviews, but they really are super helpful to me. I never want anyone to feel that their thoughts don't matter. Please share yours with me. If you don't feel like posting a review, I'd love for you to PM me.**

**I'd like to thank the readers who have favorited and followed the story, and to those brave souls who have posted reviews, your thoughts really are important to me. I try to respond to everyone, but if you are a guest or have PMing disabled, I'll just have to thank you here. So...Thank you!**

**And now... Chapter 3...**

Jace and Alec, clothed in Shadowhunter gear, weighted down with weapons, wait impatiently for Isabelle to appear. As a fighter Isabelle moves with the grace and speed of a gazelle, but when she's acting as demon bait, she dresses slowly and deliberately and pisses Jace the hell off.

"Isabelle, hurry the fuck up! You said 20 minutes," he consults his phone, "20 minutes ago!" His aggravation with his sister is made that much worse by the rumble of anticipation he feels at returning to Pandemonium and possibly seeing her again-the curvy redhead that haunts his dreams and his fantasies. Jace checks his phone again; ten minutes have passed and still no Isabelle and Alec just stands there amused by Jace's obvious annoyance.

"The fuck, Alec? Isabelle...fucking let's go!" Alec snickers. Jace cannot contain his agitation; he's had it! He grabs Alec by the shoulders and roughly shoves him to the ground. Alec bursts out laughing-it's a rare moment when Jace loses his temper so completely that he bypasses sarcasm for violence. Alec isn't completely sure what's put Jace in such a foul mood, but he guesses it has something to do with thoughts of a certain girl swirling in his brain."

"You've seen her once, you pussy! Who would have thought Jace Wayland…!" Alec pushes too far, and Jace lands a hard jab to his left eye before he can finish his insult.

"Boys!" Isabelle stern exclamation announces her presence and her irritation. She tosses her stele at Jace, "Fix it!" Her tone leaves no doubt in Jace's mind that playtime is over. He hesitates momentarily trying to figure out if he wants to risk Isabelle's whip for another punch. In the end, he reluctantly picks us Isabelle's stele and harshly carves an _iratze _into his _parabatai's_ neck; Alec flinches at his roughness.

"Asshole!" Jace spits with a slight hint of pleasure.

"Pussy!" Alec can't resist and Jace rewards his dig with a steel-toed kick to his thigh. "You Fucker!" He hisses in pain.

"Jace, we can't kick demon ass if Alec's all messed up. Idiot!" Obviously done with Alec and Jace's adolescent stupidity, Isabelle pushes Jace out of the way, grabs her stele and applies another _iratze_ none too gently.

"We don't need his ass. I can act as bait and destroy those nasty fucks!" Under his breath, but loud enough, Jace recovers his cocky attitude. _It's the truth. I don't need them._ But he knows they are a team and Maryse is unlikely to allow him to hunt without at least one of age Shadowhunter tagging along.

"Stop being such a jerk, Jace. Let's just get to the club; you can get your redhead fix and we can go back to being _Beauty and the Two Idiots_!" Isabelle turns on her thigh-high stilleto'd heel and marches toward the elevator.

Jace just can't resist one more poke, "Only if you two idiots recognize that Jace Wayland, Shadowhunter extraordinaire, and definitely the _Beauty_ of this crew will never be a fucking pussywhipped bastard!" He pushes Alec aside, stalks passed Isabelle and knuckles the call button for the elevator. The grinding squeal signals that the conversation is over and the trio pile into the car and force the gate closed. They ride in silence, Jace smirking, Isabelle shaking her head and Alec brooding to the ground floor.

* * *

Jace's pace is fast and light; his eager feet barely touching the cement. He's perplexed by his attachment to this completely unknown girl. It's irrational for him to react in anyway other than sexually to a Mundie. _A backroom bang...that's what they're good for, and maybe as a demon magnet. _ But the thoughts, deep in his head feel off—not his usual dismissive, nonchalance—where _she _is concerned.

_Alec might be closer to the truth than he thinks. I am a fucking pussy…I don't know her name and I can't even get off thinking about her. What the fuck! _Jace's disgust with love, an emotion reserved for idiot mundanes and otherworlders whose balls kept in their girlfriend's purse, stems from his father's belief: "to love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed." _Love! What the hell am I doing to myself. I better fucking get laid tonight…take care of this excessive horniness!_ Jace snorts out loud causing Alec to lift his head, interested.

"Something funny?" Alec's stride isn't as long as Jace's and he speeds up to match his step. His sense of humor hasn't quite returned to normal, but he's willing to engage Jace in conversation to see the extent of his fascination with the red-haired mundane.

"No. Just deep in thought. I hope to the angel that we see some action tonight. It's been too quiet lately." Jace plays off his absorption well knowing that even if Alec suspects that he'll be diverted by the idea that there's something strange afoot. Alec is a strategist; his attention is easily captured by speculation and talk of variability in demonic activity. He loves the fight, but he adores planning the attack. Jace, instead, would rush into the battle, tackling the unknowns with a vigor equal to the destruction of the enemy.

"We have pretty solid information that tonight supposed to be some big demon gathering. Quite a few have already been sighted and dispatched." Alec, the only of age hunter in the group, revels in the authority knowledge provides—he almost glows with superiority. Jace and Isabelle, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, cannot stand this side of Alec and they exchange their own knowing look.

"Already dispatched, eh?" Isabelle's eyes catch the light and a wicked half-smile plays on her beautiful features. "You sound like a fucking pirate! Captain Alec Lightwood, arrgh." She raises an eyebrow at Jace seeking his agreement; he doesn't disappoint an irritatingly smug look appearing on Jace's face to match Isabelle's mischievous smile.

"You," Alec swings around, furious, eyes flaming with rage, so that he can burn both Isabelle and Jace, "are fucking, immature assholes!" He spins and storms off, intent on their destination, with or without his companions. Isabelle and Jace, no longer able to control themselves, double over in laughter. Jace sighs in-between, grateful for the levity to distract him.

"We still have demons to kill; humans to protect, Fuckers. Come on!" Alec throws over his shoulder all business. Jace grabs Isabelle's hand pulling her forward, to catch up with their brother. As they reach Alec, uncharacteristically, Jace wraps an arm around each of his siblings' shoulder causing Alec to halt his march and Isabelle to snap back against the momentum.

In a strange, conciliatory gesture, Jace huddles them and speaks in a low, pacifying tone "I always pictured us more like the Three Musketeers…". He drops his arms, pushes away from them and heads off toward Pandemonium. Alec and Isabelle are stymied by Jace's departure from sarcasm and self-promotion in an effort to bring the team back together. It takes them a moment to recover and then they too move in the direction of the club and hopefully enough demonic activity to work up a sweat.

* * *

Jace arrives at the club first his survey confirming that the green-eye beauty from last night isn't waiting outside. _She's eye-candy,_ he savors the memory,_ and definitely wouldn't have to bide her time in a line_. He scans the extremely long line of eager partyers once again this time with slight amusement. _Idiots! They wait in line to be rejected as unacceptable or if found to be desirable, herded into a dark cavern, crammed like sardines to rub frustratingly against other humans, coming away with a severe case of blueballs, an STD or an ego-crushing dismissal._ He shakes his head and stalks passed them grateful for the mendelin rune that grants his invisibility. Tonight, he wishes to move undetected by mundanes, at least for a while.

Isabelle and Alec arrive minutes after Jace. The glow of Isabelle's ruby necklace, a signal to the presence of demons, excites the Shadowhunters, Alec especially. Finally, they will see some action. Isabelle strolls to the restroom to remove the glamour hiding her from human and demon view. Jace and Alec scan the room for their target, knowing that if they don't find it first, the demon will most definitely _find _Isabelle. Jace takes a few steps from the side of his _parabatai_. He wishes to search undetected for something more enticing than a demon. His golden eyes scour the room for a flash of red, or a sultry curve, but he is disappointed.

Isabelle reappears looking striking in her red long-sleeve lace dress, which leaves little to the imagination, but covers the marks on her torso and curves underneath her muscular ass where it ends just below the cheeks. The role of bait is one that Isabelle relishes. Sexual energy, beauty and desirability flow from her luring unsuspecting demons hungry for a human plaything or snack. The children of Satan don't stand a chance against her siren call. Jace and Alec, still bearing the mark of invisibility move into position signaling their readiness: Jace just inside the backroom where the memory of sexual conquests linger; Alec just outside the corridor where he can maintain a protective watch over his younger sister. Isabelle can hold her own, but Alec keeps an eye on her knowing how quickly a situation can change from one she controls to one of danger. She moves about the dance floor allowing her _sight_ to lead her. As she moves, mundanes grind up against her reaching hands out to cup her delicious ass. She doesn't react accept to smile at the touch hoping that the demon lounging near the bar, whose eyes have been following her, will see a chance and take it.

The glow of Isabelle's necklace pulsates intensifying, and she senses that the demon, a shape-shifter who has assumed a very pleasant to look at human form is tracking her. She pauses momentarily so that he may catch up to her. He comes to stand in front of her and she drops low to the beat of the music and slowly rubs herself up the body of the enraptured demon. He bends to whisper in her ear and with a nod of her head, he follows her blindly to the backroom. He stands behind her and moves her hair to the side seeking access to her neck. He breathes her in thinking how good it would feel, to just once, take a human girl. Isabelle plays her part well and leans into the demon, distracting it further. Jace takes advantage and slides his seraph blade out long the neck of the demon. He moves so lightly, so soundlessly, that even Isabelle's breath catches with the movement of the weapon.

"Good lord, Isabelle. You sure can pick them. This one smells like he's been playing in a dumpster." A slight look of confusion flashes across Isabelle's lovely features. She glances over her shoulder, searching for something.

The demon's eyes widen at Jace's mocking tone. "Shadowhunter!"

"Demon! You are intelligent! Let's see…Hellspawn. You're turn! We are playing Here's a Random Synonym; are we not?" Jace's posture is controlled, threatening—the merriment he divines from the situation softens it minutely, but then it is quickly restored. There is another presence in this room. His head tips sharply to the darkest shadows in the room. He withdraws another seraph blade, whispering a name to invoke its deadly power. Jace's movement is agile, swift—lethal. He strikes out at the darkness, slashing his blade downward dividing the lurking Drevak demon, destroying it. "Satan's seed. Are we not still engaged in this farcical game?" Jace resumes the contest, his seraph blade once again assuming it's fatal position before his "plaything" realizes his absence.

The creak of a door draws Isabelle and the demon's attention. Jace, the stalwart warrior remains focused as Alex stalks into the room, eyes complaining that the demon is still alive. Jace reads his look and with an imperceptible jerk the demon is beheaded, folds in upon itself and returns to its home dimension.

"Satisfied?" Jace challenges his _parabatai's _glare with one of his own.

Alec's expression is dark, taunting. He knows something the others don't. "Hardly." Isabelle and Jace snicker at Alec's word choice. Demon slaying is invigorating, exciting and sometimes arousing. Alec rolls his eyes at his childish siblings. "We're not done quite yet."

* * *

Alec guides his companions down a hallway leading to the alley behind Pandemonium. It's a relief to escape the constant beating pulse of the music. He finds it distracting at a time when the safety of others demands his concentration. Opening the door to the outside, a horrible stench penetrates the smoke filled air wafting from the club and causes the three friends to step back in response.

"I see what you mean." Jace moves past Alec to search the darkness for the source of the foul odor. "I killed one, a Drevak, a few minutes before you came into the room. Have you seen any others?"

Alec shakes his head, "That's not the worst of it." He raises his witchlight above his head and it casts its brightness further into the alley alighting on the remains of a pentagram, broken and smeared. "I don't think there's any way to tell when it was last active. I've used the sensor and it didn't pick up anything."

"That's weird." Isabelle has been strangely silent. "The smell is so strong, you'd expect there to be demons present."

"They must have moved inside." Alec's voice assumes a tone of authority. "We'll go back inside and do a sweep using the…."

A hesitant voice shatters Alec's thought, "Um…." Isabelle, the only one of the group not shrouded in glamour steps forward her whip clasped in her hand. The movement doesn't escape the notice of the intruder. "Um… What are you doing out here? Are you okay?" The girl's voice grows in certainty as she realizes that Isabelle isn't in any danger. "Are they your friends?"

A gasp issues from Alec. Jace's reaction is less of shock and more of intrigue. Standing in the doorway is the beautiful red-haired girl from last night, her posture strong and determined, not cautious or intimidated. Neither boy moves to talk, both incredulous.

Isabelle again moves toward the girl, challenging her to turn and run. "You can see them?" The words rush out of her unchecked. She recover just as fast, "They are my friends." The girls emerald green eyes flash in response to the contradiction, but she says nothing more regarding Isabelle's companions. It is almost as if she had forgotten that they were there, as if some spell were cast to wipe the memory of them from her mind.

"Well, if your okay, I'll just go back inside." The girl stalls again trying to process the scene before her. "Would you come inside with me? I'll help you find your friends?" The offer of assistance makes Isabelle chuckle. Alec and Jace remain in the shadows confused by the obviously mundane girl in front of them.

"No. Thank you." Isabelle's voice is curt. "I'll be on my way momentarily."

"Oh…. Alright." The girl turns to go back into the club; her hand resting on the edge of the door allowing the music to escape into the night. She looks back over he shoulder her eyesight zeroing in on of the still forms of the male Shadowhunters, and then they are blank again and she follows the thrumming beat back inside.

**What do you think?**

**Love, **

*****Still Lost...**


	4. Searching for Distractions

**Good Evening (It' 9:30 here)! The kiddo's are in bed and I really wanted to post this chapter before going to bed. I've read and reread it a billion times. Hopefully, it's not too riddled with errors. **

**I want to say a special "Thank you!" to the readers who have reviewed (Thank you! Your reviews make my day!), followed or favorited this story. It is super motivating... I want you guys to know that the alerts that I receive make me want to continue writing and posting this story.**

**I also was to say an extra-extra special thank you to TMI_Rules for the comments and questions asking for clarification on chapter 3. Thank you also for reading the sneak peek for chapter 4 to make sure that I addressed those questions. The story is better because of you!**

**Please remember this story is RATED M for a reason! And although I might wish otherwise, Cassandra Clare owns TMI and I do not.**

**I hope that you enjoy this chapter and that you will review with your thoughts, comments, questions and even criticism. **

"Jace." Alec, his voice deep, laden with an indefinable emotion, reaches out to restrain his brother as he moves to go after the girl. "Jace, you can't."

"She saw us, Alec. What was that? She saw us, and then…nothing. Her eyes, there was an awareness…. She saw us—through the glamour—and then her _sight_ was gone." His body processes the need see her faster than his brain can comprehend how she was able to see through the glamour and he shakes off Alec without effort continuing back toward the door.

Alec pulls him back more forcefully this time. "What do you mean her_ sight _wa_…."_ His voice stutters slightly with the strain of holding Jace, and his sister interrupts before he can finish his question.

"Jace, she's a mundane. She saw shadows or movement, but she couldn't have seen you or Alec; it's just not possible." Isabelle grasps at her brother's arm. Her touch seems to stall him for a moment.

"You're right." He concedes and then his golden eyes light up. "How could she possibly turn her back on this?" Jace motions to himself with a smirk. "No girl, mundane or otherwise can resist the glory that is Jace Wayland." He turns. "Come on. Let's go back inside." His body is tingling again and he forces a nonchalance on his speech and posture that he doesn't feel. "There are no demons here now. Let's have a drink."

Alec and Isabelle roll their eyes at Jace's overinflated ego and follow him back inside the club.

* * *

The buzz that Jace felt in the alleyway has grown into a hyperactive roar. His eyes dart left and right with an irregularity that has him dizzy. Ignoring his need to find the source of his unease, Jace advances to the bar, only to realize that the glamour is still in effect. Gesturing to Alec, he points to the restroom with the intent of disabling the _mendelin_ rune. He moves with an admirable confidence, his long, strong legs carrying him with the grace of a dancer, his quadriceps bulging with the power of a warrior. Jace is Michelangelo's _David_ clothed in the angelic glory of a Shadowhunter. But in an instant, he is reduced to a bundle of distraction as his eyes settle on her. The green-eyed goddess is before him; the buzz has returned and Jace is frozen momentarily.

She is dancing with the rat-faced mundane; he looking out of place doing the robot lost in a sea of gyrating bodies that yearn for contact, while she exudes sensuality her hips swinging, fingers tangled in her fiery hair, eyes closed, a look of satisfaction playing across her features. Jace is drawn to her; he almost floats over standing millimeters from her. His hands are poised to run over her shapely form. Leaning in he inhales her essence; she is a fragrant rose, smelling of citrus and beauty and desirability and he must touch her. His hands stall as his breath is caught in his chest; the dizziness returning. Jace blinks his eyes slowly and then focuses on the smooth, pearl skin of her neck—the way it would feel silky, electrifying—if his lips brush over her flesh; the warmth of her filling him with longing. She grabs her companion to her, yelling over the rumble of the music. She turns so that Jace can see the line of her jaw, delicate and alluring and her emerald green eyes flash with excitement of the story she wants to share. Her voice is sweet and raspy; it flutters delightfully to Jace's ears…

"It was the strangest feeling. I'm heading to the restroom when I hear voices and footsteps in the hall leading outside—to the alley, and I watch the loveliest woman dressed in red lace and hooker boots exit and I'm compelled to follow her. I can't explain why…" She exhales a deep pause and a dull look forces her eyes closed. Jace is so near he can feel the heat of her exhalation. He sees the brightness fade, her eyes becoming distorted. _What the hell?_ He moves in closer still—the air that separates them warms with their proximity. _What the fuck was_ _that in her eyes? _As she reaches up to tuck a strand of wavy hair behind her ear, the back of her hand grazes his cheek. The movement doesn't register with her, but Jace is overcome. He can't catch his breath, his skin alive with her touch. He feels like he might swoon…_What the fuck? What—the—fuck? Jace Fucking Wayland does not swoon! _His thoughts are so loud he worries that others might hear; he backs up minutely and she continues speaking, but the dullness still shades her eyes.

"Then, I'm outside and she's standing there alone, not frightened, not concerned by the darkness and the obtrusive stench. I ask her if she's okay. No one else is around; the other voices I heard in the hallway…she must have been talking to herself; she doesn't even startle when I speak. " The girl's words tumble out quickly, but they are labored with stress.

The rat-faced boy listens intently. His face is mired in doubt, but the girl doesn't notice; she's too enthralled by her memory. Jace is captivated, too; her touch still very real on his cheek. Her voice arouses feelings that he's never known. His breathing is fast, his heart pounding in his ears. And, responding in the most bizarre of ways, he feels himself become hard as her emotion spills over him imploring him to rescue her from the inexplicably, tumultuous memory.

"I practically beg her to come inside with me. I offer to help her find her friends, and she dismisses me. I'm some nuisance insect and she shoos me back inside without the courtesy of a real reply." She seems tormented; recalling the scene disturbs her and the space around her vibrates with her agitation. Jace moves in still closer, loathe to allow the distress to whirl around her any longer, but her friend pulls her away from him wrapping her in the comfort of _his_ arms whispering soothing words to pacify her.

"It's okay, Clary." His croaky reassurance breaks the spell her presence casts over Jace. The two move slowly away, now completely out of reach.

Bewildered by the effect the redhead has over him, and the sudden surge of anger at having her removed from him, Jace shakes his head vigorously to expel his annoyance. His shock has him glued to the floor. _What the fuck is wrong with me? Jace Fucking Wayland, best Shadowhunter…well, ever…reduced to a tingling, confused-to-the-point-of-immobility, panty-waste! She's a mundane! A cry-baby mundane at that whose rat-faced boy friend is currently comforting her because she saw you while you were supposed to be invisible._ The rant inside Jace's head is almost louder than the music, but it is enough to free him and he continues to chastise himself as he walks toward the restroom.

Once in the restroom, the muffled music finally allows Jace a moment to consider what really happened out there. He can't deny that there is an intense attraction to the girl. His still semi-hard arousal is proof of that, but he feels a connection that goes beyond just being a horny, sex-crazed teenager with a perma-erection. She makes his body hum in a way that he has never experienced, in a way that is more powerful than his most violent orgasm or more exhilarating than kicking demon ass solo. And he despises the way his mind is so easily manipulated by his body's need.

He enters the stall and slashes through the invisibility rune with his _stele_. The cancelling of a rune is a letdown; the energy that surges is electrifying and with the breaking of a rune's power a brief weakness overcomes Jace. He leaves to face himself in the mirror. Splashing water to cool and refocus his thoughts….

_ Okay, Wayland. Fucking snap out of it! She's just a mundane_.

He repeats the last four words—it's become his mantra. Feeling idol and needing to take command, Jace exits determined to dissolve the memory of her with multiple shots of whiskey and a hot piece of ass—or two.

* * *

Isabelle taps her foot impatient for Jace to return. She caught his little interlude with the mundane redhead. Her amusement with Jace's obvious fixation has her ready to pounce, to tease him into further distraction. A befuddled Jace is a rarity and Isabelle wishes to take advantage of his budding obsession with the human—_Is it possible that Jace could become obsessed?—_her eyes brighten with mischief for her own pleasure. A quick movement, Alec shaking his head, placing his hands over his eyes to scrub away the image, draws Isabelle's attention. Alec also saw Jace's interaction with the girl. It pains her to see her brother's misplaced attraction. Watching Jace struggle with where to put his dick gives Isabelle enjoyment, but Alec is miserable denying his true self by trying to make Jace see him as more than his adopted brother or his _parabatai_. Isabelle wants to take his pain—from Jace's clueless rejection and the internal conflict he grapples with—so that Alec can live and love without shame. She loves her brothers; she's not a completely heartless bitch. Alec and Jace might think she is, but it's the best way to deal with living in a household of boys in a world where being a warrior is prized over everything else. _And with Jace Wayland, the cocky asshole, as my older brother, _Isabelle's thoughts make her smile,_ a little bitchiness goes a long way. _

Her introspection is interrupted as Jace reemerges from the restroom and makes his way toward her. As he approaches, Alec's face darkens in response to the gawking glances Jace's handsome face, masculine movements, and deliciously chiseled form garners from the crowd of dancers. Jace plays that he's oblivious, but by the way that he's walking—a sort of uncomfortable shifting strut—he's searching, obviously in need of some female assistance. The impact of his encounter with the redhead has had a more lasting impression than one might imagine. Isabelle snorts, her smile twisting into a smirk until she notices the fury that has enveloped Alec. His normally brilliant, sapphire eyes are ink black, clouded by envy, disgust and desire. Alec angrily storms to intercept Jace, his shoulder colliding with such force that Jace almost loses his footing.

"What the fuck…." Jace snarls through gritted teeth, recalling that Alec is still glamoured and he's likely to appear insane if he yells after him. He's rooted to the spot, eyes following his brother, for only a moment and then he heads for the bar…and Isabelle. When near enough, he throws up two fingers to the bartender and then with a sweeping motion signals to keep the drinks coming. Jace downs the first shot without acknowledging Isabelle, but when he reaches for the second, she bats his hand away.

"Jace…" Isabelle hates to play peacemaker.

"What, Isabelle?" He is seething. His anger is not for his sister, but her disapproving stare makes him lash out. "Fuck him! He knows me, what I am. I fuck women. How can he be pissed at me when he fucking knows that I am straight as shit!" Two more shots are on the bar, and Jace downs them: 1…2…3…without pausing for a breath. "Fuck him!" He repeats with less venom, his eyes, however, betray the rage hovering just beneath the surface. The alcohol that is beginning to surge through his veins calms him marginally. It's not enough, and he tosses back two more shots.

"It's not fucking rational, Jace." Isabelle's expression is exasperated, and Jace wonders if it is for him or their brother. "Love is irrational, especially when secret and unrequited."

"Love!" Jace spits the word. "Fuck that!"

"Don't be a douchebag, Jace." Isabelle can tell that under the influence of the alcohol, Jace is relaxing, less furious—more receptive. She pushes back a bit, "You know Alec's tormented, afraid to be himself. Can't you just help him?"

"What, by kissing him, letting him fondle my robust manhood?" Jace draws out the last word, meaning for his slight joking tone to appease Isabelle a bit so that she'll let him alone, but it has the opposite affect.

"You are such an asshole, Jace. He's your brother. Show some fucking compassion." She shoves him at an unoccupied bar stool and stalks off to find Alec. Jace stumble, but his Shadowhunter reflexes help to right him almost immediately.

Two more whiskey shots are at his fingertips and he downs them: a final agent to dull the bitchiness of his sister's words; the ache in his shoulder from Alec's assault; and the nagging thoughts of the redhead that pull at the back of his mind. He pauses to contemplate the awfulness of the evening when a hand smooths its way over his knee, up his thigh to settle on his almost forgotten arousal. Jace raises his eyes to a pair of green ones twinkling with a dusting of lust. For a moment his breath catches as he stares, trying to figure out why the strange reaction. Then he relaxes; the green does not belong to the girl he craves. Instead, long, dark lashes, olive-toned skin and straight black hair frame them. She is stunning; his body responds although his mind is hazy. Her hand has found his tip and her finger is tracing circles around it. Jace sucks in a deep breath through his nose as the woman leans in, rubs her soft cheek over the stubble of his and follows the line of his jaw up to his ear with her tongue. She takes the lobe into her mouth, flicks it and nibbles at the soft flesh taunting him with the idea of what she can do to him if she's granted access beneath his clothing. He doesn't flinch when her hand dips below his waistband, popping his button and easing his zipper down. A strange sense of propriety grips Jace and he clasps her hand halting her progress. He leans in, whispers and points to a vacant secluded booth that borders the dance floor. She smiles, adjusts Jace so that his untucked shirt hides the evidence of her power and leads him through the shadows.

She is forceful when they reach the booth shoving Jace to sit on the vinyl bench squeezing in beside him. He hits his arm on the table and a grin lights up his face. She's rough—Jace groans softly, but not in pain. He likes it rough. Immediately, she returns to him, her hand reaching into his pants and drawing out his throbbing erection. She smiles at the challenge of his size, and Jace hears the small moan that escapes her as she is no doubt picturing herself mounting him, riding to ecstasy. Her hand is warm and skillful as it moves over the soft skin of his rigid length her thumb swirling the tip. The tablecloth provides the perfect amount of privacy as she dips her head down; her hot breath, full lips and writhing slippery tongue surround_ him_. Jace's head tips to rest on the back of the booth; his mouth closed as he tries to keep the wanton groans from breaking through. Her head doesn't bob along his length, her tongue however presses at the base of _him_ and then drags deeply along the stiff ridge to whirl around the so sensitive tip where she sucks in, her teeth grazing him and then plunges back down to the based. Jace coughs out a moan he had no intention of letting loose. _Oh by the fucking Angel!_ Her pace has him panting short breaths in and out, in and out of his nose; his chest is full, hips bucking against the girl's mouth. The burning and pressure and heat below his waist intensifies. He won't last. He grabs her hair and yanks hard—she moans…her mouth vibrating around him, her tongue still ravishing his pulsing arousal. He sucks in one…two…three…shallow breaths—his eyes open widening and he releases, his orgasm crippling his control momentarily as a muffled, closed, mouth groan escapes breaking the silence in his head.

A solid thump, thump, thump brings Jace back to reality. It's impossible for him to tell if it is his heart beating in his ears or the pulse of the music. His eyes remain closed as he concentrates to normalize his breathing and stifle his post-orgasm twitch. Finally, he's in control enough to raise his head and open his eyes—possibly a huge mistake. Just outside the shadow of his table, eyes blazing in astonishment and a hint of fear, stands the haunting form of the redhead who has been plaguing Jace's awake-time and dreams; the girl Rat-face calls, "Clary".

**So, what do you think? Let me know!**

*****Still Lost...**


	5. Bewitched, Bewildered and Bothered

**Wow! You readers are amazing. Thank you for following and favoriting and review! I can't tell you how happy it makes me to have my phone alert me to new favs or follows and review. It takes a dull day and makes it shine!**

**Thank you to TMI-Rules and GroovyWhovie for taking a extra special interest and PMing me with their thoughts. I really do love chatting with readers and writers.**

**And now without further ado...**

"I know you?" Words, meant as a statement, are couched in a question, her face bewildered. Piercing emerald, green eyes brighten perceptively as she creeps toward the booth Jace sits in, recognition hovering just outside of them, and they move back and forth as her mind decides whether or not she is allowed to know him.

"I found it!" A sleek black-haired woman bounces up from what appears to be under the table. Her eyes are hooded in deception, cheeks rosy, lips swollen and red. "It was in your boot…." The redhead startles backward, her confusion growing.

Jace adjusts, trying to tuck himself back into his trousers without drawing attention to the movement. His surprise at having been "caught" dissipates quickly as he realizes that there is no cause for concern. _She_ didn't _see_ anything.

"It must have fallen off the bench when you spilled your drink. You really are a lush, Jess." Jace's smirk takes "Jess" aback, and she fumbles for a witty comeback, but fails miserably.

"Well… excuse me." She says this with a polite sweetness that she obviously doesn't feel. "I must go freshen up." Jace's pleasure girl (dubbed "Jess") scowls then kisses his cheek far back by his ear. She takes his lobe in her mouth, bites hard, and withdraws sliding it out of her mouth—Jace groans almost silently as she whispers, "See you, Asshole!" a smile playing on her lips. She saunters away, head up, hips swaying knowing that she rocked his world. He watches her walk away the memory of her actions provoking an involuntary response in him—his pants growing slightly tighter.

"I know you, right?" The words are small and hesitant. Jace's gaze shifts back to the redheaded beauty before him. Her eyes shine, but they hold onto the clouded dullness from earlier. Curiosity and something Jace can't identify washes over him. His thoughts drift to the image of her dancing the other night; her hand caressing her curves. He rises to better see her, to hopefully catch the scent of her again or maybe even clasp her hand in an introduction. He needs to get closer to discover what it is that compels him to seek her out, to wonder about her, to fantasize about her.

"I'm _known _by many, many beautiful women." His words hold a secret meaning lost on the girl. "But, I'm certain I don't know you, Gorgeous"

A stunning blush colors her cheeks, her beauty momentarily stealing Jace's breath. She casts her eyes down bashfully as he slowly moves toward her. He doesn't understand why his hands are sweating or his heart is racing. Swallowing, hard, he stands before her drinking her in. The air between them is charged, humming a melody that only they can hear. He reaches up to tame a stray wisp of red wavy hair that is swaying in the enlivened atmosphere, but he stalls, his hand hovering in the nearness afraid to venture closer.

She stares at his outreached hand, bewitched by him: the golden tone of his skin, the swirling curls of his hair and the honey-colored eyes that beckon her to him. She is the one to close the space, although she is just as bewildered by her reaction to him as he is to her. The familiarity that she feels allows her to raise her hand to his cheek, to graze his flesh, releasing the memory of her touch from hours ago. Jace wants to balk at the rush of emotions leaping the gap between their bodies, emotions that force him to pause and consider, "what if?" But that thought is immediately dislodged, as the girl is pushed to him by the rat-faced boy, sputtering nonsense about curfew and murdering mothers and strangers with even stranger diseases. She grabs at Jace to steady herself however, her precarious balance wins. Before she collides with the floor, her fingertips clasp his shirt, pulling it open, popping buttons.

Jace mutters something about women always falling at his feet as he crouches to help her. His rune-adorned, gilded chest, now partially exposed, draws her attention. Her mind locks onto the dark marks burned into his flesh, but her eyes don't see; the dull clouds have intensified, blinding her. She gasps in pain, head in hands.

"Clary! What is it? What did he do? Rat-face replaces his worry with outrage and turns it on Jace. "What did you do to her?" He slaps Jace's offered hand away. "No! Don't fucking touch her."

"What did I do? You knocked her to the fucking floor!" Jace stands upright towering over the boy and the girl he calls "Clary".

"Look at her! She's a fucking zombie. One minute with you—she's blind and incapable of coherent thought." The boy spits his last remark.

Jace doesn't struggle to repress his amusement. "I've been told I have that affect on women."

"Simon." Clary regains her voice. Both boys immediately focus on her lowering themselves to the floor. She looks straight through Jace as if he is suddenly invisible to address Simon. "How did…. I'm…" She closes her eyes trying force an explanation as to why she's on the floor, why her head is pounding, why her vision is blurry, and why there is a golden angel hovering over her. "I think we should go home. It feels late." Her voice trembles with uncertainty and fear.

Simon helps her to her feet. "I'll get us a cab when we get outside." He wraps his arm around Clary's waist, drawing her body into him so that he can support her—to provide some comfort.

Jace steps toward them. This might be his only chance for an explanation—his only chance to find out why his thoughts are possessed by the small, red-haired beauty with the startling green eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but Simon shoots a voiceless _No!_ at him. The word, a silent dagger, is not enough to bar Jace from moving closer. What stops him is the look of utter confusion and terror-laced anxiety that contorts Clary's lovely features. Her expression paralyzes him making him uncharacteristically helpless and he watches as she turns to leave.

"I'll see you again, won't I?" She's fighting against the pull of Simon's arm. "Sometime…?"

"Probably." Jace's trademark smirk dances on his face sarcastically. "I'm in high demand. Beautiful women are always looking for me."

Simon's desire to remove his friend from the spell the strangely-dressed, too handsome man has ensnared her in finally wins out, and Clary is directed reluctantly toward the exit. Jace's smirk slowly fades from his face to be replaced with a disconcerted frown. His thoughts where she is concerned are even more muddled and he's frustrated with his inability to interpret himself. Perhaps a drink and a fuck will straighten things out.

**Ok, so I know that it's short. There are two reasons for that:**

**One: Chapter 4 took an unexpected turn with Clary becoming a peeper. I wasn't sure what to do with her! I'm hoping that I didn't disappoint with this chapter.**

**Two: I've discovered that I'm not quite ready for Jace and Clary to meet ala City of Bones. I need more Jace sans Clary. What do you all think?**

**So...your task this week is feedback, feedback, feedback! Tell me what you love, hate, want to burn, want to flourish! Good, bad, ugly (okay not too ugly)...I want it all!**

**And just incase you were wondering, yes, I'm...**

*****Still Lost...**


	6. Vanilla Nightmare Awakenings

**Hi all! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated. This chapter has been a bear! I hope you enjoy reading it.**

**Thank you to all for your reviews and favorite and follows. A special thanks to TMI_Rules and Groovie Whoovie for their PM's of encouragement and helpful comments. **

**Please know that every review is greatly appreciated and I look forward to hearing what you think! Don't forget to read the author's note at the end too! Thanks!**

Jace's fingers dance over the silky curves of the vanilla-scented woman underneath him. She smells too sweet, and he flips them to distance himself from the fragrance invasion. A smile grows on her pale pink lips as she writhes above him in the obvious pleasure being on top of Jace affords. He grips her hips tightly, leaving indentations, to help subdue her exuberant bouncing. _She's going to break the fucking thing off!_ He's not into the woman above him, and he considers pushing her off, but he's never left a woman unsatisfied-tonight is not the night to start performance rumors.

Jace lets mind slip from the present to not too long ago where he's standing close enough to the redhead that he can savor her warm, inviting, citrusy apple scent. He can feel the softness of her bare skin in the air, and the memory of the electric touch of her fingers grazing his cheek sends a craving for _her_, a jolt through his body. Pictures of her smiling above him, tossing her head back as waves of desire crash over the both of them, flit through the fabricated memory. The calloused pads of his fingers caress her silky thighs; she is moaning his name rocking, slowly, deeply, passion inflaming the fantasy to where he has lost all links to reality and the very real woman undulating wildly on top of him.

"Are you still with me, Darling?" Slowing slightly, she smooshes her lips to his, and Jace's mind recoils with her touch. It is more than enough to rip him out of his delusion. Coldness passes over him and he shutters, something she misinterprets as pleasure and the intense bucking resumes.

Pressing his hands to her hips, Jace guides her movement signaling the end to his preoccupation. "Just feeling you." He offers the explanation against her lips, his voice husky from lack of use. She's too close; her perfume makes the room spin off-kilter, the dizziness threatens the loss of his meal hours ago. "Sit back up…yeah…like that. That feels good." He breathes in not too deeply trying to push the light-headedness from him.

In an effort to find the moment, Jace closes his eyes to regroup, but image of the girl "Clary" terrified, trying to make sense of the blindness she feels in his presence alights on his conscience. _What the…?_ The jostling of the woman mounting him interrupts his thoughts. She leans back, her long wavy blond locks tickle his thighs and he lets a laugh escape, but he morphs it into a moan before it reaches her ears.

"You like it when I spear myself on you?" The woman's attempt at sounding sultry annoys Jace. _What the hell is wrong with me? This beautiful, fucking hot woman is riding me like a thoroughbred and I can't care enough to participate. Fuck. _ Jace mentally slaps himself around. He's never been a "dead fuck" and he isn't one to pretend either. He mind-slaps himself again; he then glides his hands from her hips over her flat, taut stomach to stroke the velvety pinks of her voluptuous breasts. "Oh God." She whimpers. The warmth of her skin drags Jace into the act, but as his eyes close another image of Clary replaces the reality in front of him. He sees her face, trying to puzzle out the scene of Jace—head laid back as his orgasm rips through him—from earlier in the evening.

"Oh my God!" Her breathy shutter breaks the stillness yanking Jace out of his memory. "You're fucking perfect!" she moans as she jams herself down with even more vigor. His pursed lips stifle the "oof" of pain. One of Jace's hands returns to her hip and he begins thrusting to counter her movements causing him to slip even deeper. He grunts at the force of the impact and that sets the woman free. _Finally._ She screams a room shattering, "fuck" and collapses smothering Jace in a vanilla nightmare. He waits but a minute then pushes on her shoulders, rolling her off.

After removing the condom, Jace hikes up his pants over his still hard form, but for once it doesn't seem to bother him. He yearns for a hot shower and the solitude of his bedroom. He walks away from the still panting woman without responding to her requests of "Baby, you've still got a boner. Can I help you out with that?" letting the click of the door be his answer.

The very early morning atmosphere of the club pulses with eroticism as dancers grind each other with trance-like enthusiasm. Jace takes in the scene with diminished amusement; Isabelle and Alec are long gone—demon activity dispensed with. Jace suspects that Alec quickly grew bored and Isabelle went on her own backroom adventure. As he walks through the throng, a svelte, willowy fey squashes her body to his, wrapping her leg around his ass lining them up. She moans feeling his lingering arousal pressed against her most sensitive area—smiling in triumph thinking she's the cause. Jace trails his lips across her cheek to whisper in her ear, "It's not for you", and unravels himself from the seductive fairy.

Stopping at the bar for a final round of shots, although the urgency to rid himself of the vanilla haze that has seeped into his clothing and hair still remains, Jace slaps the bar and holds up 4 fingers. _I'm such a rude bastard._ He playfully chastises himself internally. The bartender, a buxom little thing with olive skin and shiny chestnut hair plays for his attention; he can only be bothered to throw a smirk in her direction that seems to shout, "You wish!" _What the hell are they serving tonight? Has everyone gone fuck crazy? _Jace tosses back his shots, throws several dollars down on the bar and saunters toward the exit.

It's been a long night, but as he's leaving, in his peripheral vision, he sees a vampire cozying up to an unsuspecting mundane girl. _By the Angel, don't they check ID's in this place? She must be 13!_ He moves toward the couple, motivated by his shadowhunter's instincts, the effects of the whiskey, and the need to fuck someone up to hide from the clutter in his brain. Grabbing the vampire's collar, Jace yanks him back to whisper in his ear, "Stick to your own kind, Downworlder." He smashes the vampire's head into the wall. The girl eyes Jace with an invitingly suggestive glance, but he can't be trouble to even smirk a rejection. He turns, leaving the girl to drool after him wondering what happened.

The cool of the night air should clear his mind; instead it messes with his brain. He's hazy, intoxicated by something other than alcohol. In his head, Jace deconstructs his exhaustion: _I need to get some sleep. Why is this mundane girl being granted the power to fuck with my mind? I can't sleep. I can't get off. I can't focus. I'm consumed by her, her curves, her movements, her ability to see beyond the human world. She looks at me with fear as if I am some horrible nightmare, but then wants to know if we'll meet again. I've been infected by her spellbinding confusion and who the fuck is she? She's a mundane._ The last thought is growled in frustration.

As he makes his way toward the subway station, his internal rant continues to a fevered pitch blinding him to the people in the streets around him. Women approach him, come-fuck-me gazes pasted on their faces. The ride on the subway has him dodging crotch gropes. Actions that might have once led to a rendezvous, leave him with sluggish thoughts trying to make sense of the strange happenings, _What is with the female population of New York tonight? _In the end, he vainly chalks it all up to his fuck-hot good looks and charm.

* * *

Back at the Institute, Jace stares up at the ceiling willing sleep to interrupt the thought-assault his mind has been subjecting him to since arriving home. He sees "Clary": a victim, a damsel in need of rescue, a conquest, a puzzle. _ A fucking mind suck!_ The voice is much louder than it should be. He doesn't usually wrestle with thoughts; his narcissism allows him the freedom to act without concern of repercussions. Now, with this new _sight_ he's developed, he's disoriented, feeling out of control and uncomfortable.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? She's a mundane with the ability to see into the Shadow World. Impossible! Yet, she did see through my glamour. Her eyes pinned me into that corner in the alley. Those emerald, momentarily omniscient eyes... _

And that's what bothers Jace the most-her eyes. With one glance into them, he sees more of himself, of his future than he has in any meditation, in any dream. She holds something deep within her that consumes his being... It is perplexing, jarring that a mundane could unknowingly have any power over him. If he isn't careful, she could drink him in and he would be incapacitated, like some poor sap subjugated by a love potion.

_Would that be so bad?_ The question hangs over him—obscuring his normally quick-to-avoid-entanglements counter-measure: his father's voice repeating (what for Jace has become a family mantra) "To love is to destroyed and to be loved is to be the one destroyed".

The answer to that question however is convoluted, confusing bringing out sides of Jace that he works to repress into submission—extinction. When he sees her, as he did tonight, he is immobilized, lured in by the visions playing out in her emerald pools: Jace smiling, not smirking, genuinely, adoringly smiling; the girl, Clary, wrapped in a stunning gold dress anticipation coloring her cheeks; hands linked bound by life, by love. But just as quickly as those clairvoyant glimpses appear, as strongly as the paralysis of vulnerability overcomes him, it vanishes.

Her eyes-her _sight _clouds becoming veiled and dulled. When he looks again, Jace can't see anything of himself or of her in their now shrouded, jade depths except for a reflection of the unaffected expression cemented to his face. He hopes.

* * *

**One reader called this story smut (no offense taken, btw), and I agree has been pretty "smutty". This chapter is still pretty tastefully(I hope) graphic. Up to this point, it's been necessary to establish Jace's character. After all, the story is called "Before Clary" and the illustrious Cassandre Clare left much up to interpretation with regard to Jace's life prior to meeting up with Clary. This is how I see Jace's life, seemingly carefree and unencumbered...but now...hmmmm.**

**Review with what you think about what's going on with Jace, what you liked, dislikes, favorite lines-Any and every review just makes me smile!**

**And of course...I'm...**

*****Still Lost...**


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